


For Better or Worse

by PerfectXPiscies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dumbledore Bashing, F/M, Ginny Bashing, Good(ish) Malfoy's, Good(ish) Voldemort, M/M, Molly Bashing, Ron Bashing, Sick-of-it-all!Harry, Started then abbandoned challenge, Still writing the story though, evil!Dumbledore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-30 21:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerfectXPiscies/pseuds/PerfectXPiscies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry finds out that for all that he thought of Dumbledore as a Grandfather figure, he was no more than a tool to the old man. Now, sent back to the Dursley's after the fight at the ministry Harry Potter is ready to start shedding his masks. For better or Worse he was going to show the world who he really was. Will be explicit later on.</p><p>HP/FG Main Pairing, Started out as a challenge fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I had posted this story on fanfiction.net first, but decided to transfer it over here as well. Though I have changed some things. It had started out as a challenge fic, but well I got bored. Though it will still hit the main points in the challenge I decided to forgo some of them (like heir of Hogwarts) simply because it made things to easy. Hopefully you guys like it! And constructive criticism is welcome, please review, leave comments, ideas, or even reminders to update ^_^ I want to know what you think!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape, or form own Harry Potter.

Prologue:  
                                                                                                                        Grief

Grief is a strange and powerful emotion. It can make the strongest person collapse, unable to function; or it can spur one to do things they never would have thought of before.

As Harry Potter rode the Hogwarts express back to Kings Cross station in London, all he could think about was the grief he felt at losing Sirius. The pain had numbed into a dull ache since that fateful meeting in Dumbledore’s office. Harry couldn’t help but bitterly think that if Dumbledore had bothered to inform him of the prophecy, of a prophecy that contained him, then maybe the Department of Mysteries fiasco wouldn’t have happened. That if Dumbledore had bothered to tell Harry the information that he desperately needed, then maybe Sirius would still be alive.

But as much as Harry desperately wanted to blame Dumbledore, to blame Snape. He knew that he couldn’t, at least not them alone. He could blame them for the events that led to the Department of Mysteries fiasco, but that was all he could blame them for.

Dumbledore could be blamed for withholding important, necessary information; for allowing that horrid toad to teach, let alone have so much power at Hogwarts. The Ministry and Hogwarts were separate, they couldn’t interfere with each other. Snape could only be blamed for being a bad teacher, and for being too damn good of a spy.

However, equal blame could be shared between Voldemort, Bellatrix, Sirius, and Harry himself. Bellatrix may have shot the killing blow into the veil of death, but Sirius wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for Harry. It was Harry who Sirius was trying to rescue, the one whom he had died to protect. Voldemort had tricked him, had lured him there like a mouse with cheese; but Harry had fallen for the trap, a trap Sirius paid for with his life. And Sirius, Sirius should have taken the duel more seriously than he did.

And Harry knew that. Harry knew that there was enough blame to go around, however it was Harry who had let his Gryffindor persona to rule him. He let a mask get in the way of his Slytherin cunning and Ravenclaw intelligence.

It would not happen again.


	2. Chapter 1: Home Sweet Home

Chapter One:

Home Sweet Home

 

            As the car pulled up to number four Private Drive, Harry couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his lips. ‘Home sweet home.’ He bitterly thought as his uncle opened the garage doors. ‘It wouldn’t do for the neighbors to see the freak.’

 

            Seeing as the Order had thought that it would be a good idea to, talk to his uncle; subtly threatening him should he harm Harry during his stay with them. Since then Vernon’s face had gone from the light flush of pink from embarrassment to the burgundy red of rage, and was steadily getting darker. Harry knew that as soon as they got behind closed doors that Vernon would take his ire, his furious anger at being threatened by freaks, and in public, out on him.

 

            Harry kept a close eye on his Uncle’s hands as the engine was turned off; slowly they returned their white-knuckled grip to the steering wheel. However the only thing that surprised him was the simple fact that both his Aunt Petunia and Cousin Dudley were also closely watching Vernon. Harry was unsure of what to make of this fact, maybe Vernon had taken his anger out on his loving family when Harry was no longer there to beat on this year?

 

            Either way Harry pushed it to the back of his mind. He had other things to worry over currently and didn’t have the time to ponder over this new development. He would think it over later, when he had less, pressing, matters to hold his attention.

 

            “Boy, you are to grab your freaky things and go straight to your room. You are to stay there and not make a single sound until I come for you. I don’t want to hear a single peep coming from your room, is that clear boy?” Though Vernon’s voice didn’t give away the ire he clearly felt, the trembling finger pointed in Harry‘s direction did. So Harry simply nodded, not willing to speak out and further enrage his ticking time bomb of an Uncle.

 

            Vernon’s beady little eyes glared cruelly at Harry. As if he was just wishing that Harry would be stupid enough to ignore his Uncle’s very clear warning.

 

            Satisfied, and disappointed, that the boy knew his place, Vernon unbuckled his seatbelt and rocked his considerable girth out of his newly bought company car.

 

            “Don’t think that you’ll be getting away with what those freaks said,” Vernon said cruelly, smirking evilly as he starred into his nephew’s expressionless face. “No one tells Vernon Dursley what to do in his own home. No one.”

 

 

            Later that night, as Harry lay unmoving on his cot in the smallest bedroom at number four private drive, he couldn’t help but think over his past years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He didn’t like what he noticed. Every year, every single year at Hogwarts his life has been either directly or indirectly endangered; sometimes both and some years more than others. It almost seems as if they were tests. Tests to test his magical strength, his luck, and to test his mettle. Tests that all seem to orchestrated by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.

 

            In first year there was the Troll, Fluffy the Cerberus locked up on the third floor corridor ( _seriously, locked up? Three first years could get past that door with a hasty alohamora spell)_ , and a ‘suspicious monster’ killing the local unicorns in the Forbidden Forest. Then there was the dentition located in the aforementioned forbidden forest, at night. The fact that the groundskeeper, who was unable to cast magic,  was able to ‘win’ and then attempt to raise the Dragon hatchling Norberta, a Norwegian Ridgeback, in a wooden hut on the school campus without being caught by any one other than four first year students.

 

            Later in that first year there was the Philosopher’s stone, an object of great power and wealth, a temptation even grown men have fallen prey to. Hidden in a school filled with impressionable, untrained, and ever curious children. The mirror or Erised, an enchanted mirror that shows your hearts desire; and last, but not least, Quirellmort.

 

            How could Albus Dumbledore, the so called ‘greatest headmaster to date’, be unable to notice the parasitic possession of  Defense Professor Quirell. Especially since said parasitic spirit was Dark Lord Voldemort, Dumbledore’s greatest foe…  or at least since Grindelwald. Ignoring the fact that Dumbledore had been ‘unable’ to acknowledge the fact that the defense professor was indeed possessed, not simply ‘worried over Vampires finding him’. But the protections to protect the stone from falling into the clutches was easily fought through by three first year students new to magic. Two of whom were completely new to magic while the other was simply uninterested in learning.

 

            Second year began with Dobby trying to ‘save’ him, and in the process put his life in further danger, then there was the misuse of magic letter the Ministry of Magic sent him and his relatives. The Weasley’s taking their father flying Ford Angela’s to break him out of his relatives house. The entrance to platform 9 ¾ had been closed forcing both Ron and Harry to drive the illegally enchanted Ford Angela’s to Hogwarts, accidentally crashing it into the Whomping Willow. Not an experience that Harry would wish to experience.

 

            Those this years Defense Professor, one Gildory Lockhart, wasn’t possessed by a parasitic spirit, which was a small step up, he was a fraud. Looking back onto second year Harry was very surprised that it didn’t turn out worse than it did.

 

            The whole heir of Slytherin thing was exactly dangerous as it could’ve been, Harry admitted now that he was lucky that people hadn’t thrown hexes and curses at him. Though the school turning on him again was annoying it wasn’t actually as harmful as it could’ve become. Though Harry did have to question his sanity when he looked back on his choices that year. Seriously, what was he thinking going into the forbidden forest at night into the lair of Giant Arachnids who didn’t think twice about trying to eat them?

 

            Though they did learn that the monster in Slytherin’s lair was a Basilisk, a legendary creature hatched from a snakes egg that had been sat on by a toad. The legendary king of serpents whose gaze killed any who looked directly into its eye, petrifying those lucky enough to only be caught by its reflection. And stupid Harry he fought the monster, taking a fang in the arm before destroying Tom Riddles diary, his living memory before it could fully kill Ginny. Before it could steal the unfortunate first years soul.

 

            Again it cam down to the fact that Dumbledore was, unaware, of the partial possession of a person under his protection. Letting a dark artifact capable of leeching off of another’s soul and magic in order to bring is living memory of a sixteen year old Lord Voldemort to life.

 

            Third year was calmer considering that the infamous Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban in order to kill him. Though the defense professor was certainly more knowledgeable, and wasn’t out to actively ruin and/or destroy him. However it turned out he was a werewolf, which explained Snape’s active…. _dislike…_ of the shy professor, and the poor professor ended up trying to accidentally kill him when he forgot to take the wolvesbane potion. Though he couldn’t exactly be to harsh on the professor about that. He thought that Sirius black had gotten them… And through his indirect actions the life debt between James Potter and Severus Snape was voided.

 

            Turned out that Sirius was innocent, in fact he never got a trial, and that Scabber’s was actually Peter Pettigrew the real betrayer of the Potters. Pettigrew was an animagus, a wizard capable of turning into an animal that best represents them. In Peters case an ugly, lazy rat.

 

            Third year was defiantly his easiest, even with the Dementer’s  trying to suck out his soul at every point that they could. It actually had the least life threatening occurrences in all his schooling and not once did Voldemort show himself.

 

            Between Fourth and Fifth year Harry was unsure of  which one was the worse. Both years he had seen death. After being illegally entered into the Tri-wizard tournament and forced to compete of forfeit his magic, the school turned on him… Again. And this time Ron, his first and best friend had turned with them. Had thought that he want to enter a tournament that had previously stopped because of the high mortality rate of past tournaments.

 

            Harry still was unsure of how he could’ve forgiven the prick, he didn’t even apologize!

 

            Though Professor ‘Moody’ was the one of the best defense professors he ever had it didn’t escape his notice that Moody was in fact Bartemius Crouch Jr. A Death Eater.

 

            A Death Eater who had turned the Tournament trophy into a portkey that dent him, and Diggory, into a graveyard. It was there that Harry had seen, and known, his first witness of death. While he had seen his mother die before him Harry was to young to really understand what it meant. This time he had no such luck. Pettigrew killed Diggory on Voldemort’s orders before he had tied Harry to the tombstone.

 

            The ritual that followed still haunted his memories. The helpless feeling of being unable to stop the Dark Lord from coming back to life. Harry knew that he was extremely lucky to survive everything thing that happened in that graveyard and directly afterwards. The dual, escaping with Diggory’s body, ‘Moody’… He was very lucky.

 

            Fifth year had just gotten over, though it seemed like it happened a life time ago, Umbridge, Occulmency, Blood Quills, the entire Wizarding world thinking him insane… The Department of Mysteries, _Sirius…_

 

            Harry bit back the wave of sorrow, the grief and anger he felt. If he just knew the reason why he had to learn occulmency, that there were actual consequences not just that it was actually supposed to help… He would have taken it more seriously. He would understand the need to protect his mind. But they didn’t, they didn’t explain, they didn’t explain ANYTHING to him. They just expected him to know, to listen to them….

 

 

            Harry closed his eyes. He was tired, tired of living up to everyone’s expectations. Tired of being the Gryffindor golden boy, tired of being the boy-who-lived. He wanted to be Harry, just Harry. Would he even know how to take his masks off? Would he even be allowed to take his masks off? Or would they just say that he was going dark?  Harry sighed.

 

            “Tch. Its not like their opinion actually matters to me.” His voice barely audible as his thoughts drifted. Looking out the little window of his room, Harry starred at the full moon. Mesmerized by its haunting beauty.

 

            ‘I wonder if I’ll dream of him again?’ His last thought before he drifted between sleep and wakefulness. As his thoughts drifted aimlessly before gradually slipping off into dreams.

 

 

            As Harry opened his eyes the familiar sight of the strange forest greeting him. Harry sighed in pleasure as the forest came to life, the song of the night life prevailed, it twisted and glided past him. Wrapping him in the comforted knowledge that no one shall harm him while he was here. And he took to the comfort greedily, gratefully as he did every time he dreamed of this place.

 

            Harry wondered when he would show up. His mystery man, for there was no doubt in his mind that the stranger who calmed him, who claimed him night after night was a man. As if his thought had summoned him Harry felt strong arms wrap possessively around his slim waist, molding himself to Harry. Harry sighed, content. He could stay here for hours simply basking in his mate’s aura. The comfort of being wanted and loved for himself, not for a title, for wealth or prestige. But for Harry. Just Harry.

 

                        Harry could still remember how he found out he was gay, how he had questioned his sexuality after the disaster with Cho. How everyone had assumed he would go out with Ginny, who he felt nothing more than brotherly affection for. As he questioned himself he had noticed how his eyes had strayed. How they only ever looked over the fairer sex in curiosity. While his eyes always seemed to focus more on his own gender, slowly gazing over them as if committing their forms to memory. How his blood always seemed to boil over another male rather than a woman. Though none of this actually seemed to sink into his mind until the time he had caught himself checking out Malfoy’s ass that time at the quidditch pitch…

 

            Harry couldn’t help but relax completely under his mate’s attention. He bared his neck in submission allowing his mate to do as he wished to Harry. He would not mind in the least.

 

            Gasping as his mate bit into his neck, claiming him, even if it was only for the night. Even if it was only in a dream. Harry surrendered, and as thought seemed to leave him, he couldn’t help but wish that this was real, not just a dream.

 

            Harry should have known to be careful of what one wishes, for they might come true. Though not in the way he would’ve wished.


	3. Chapter 2: Across the river, and through the woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing of British slang as I am American born and raised, so what I have used I got off of various websites that came up in a google search of British slang. If I made any mistakes please, please inform me immediately so I can fix it.
> 
> Edited some typo's, if you find anymore please tell me ^_^

Chapter 2:

Across the river, and through the woods we go

 

The month until his birthday past slowly and painfully. The night Harry had returned to the Dursley household was a quiet one, one that wouldn't occur again. 

 

Uncle Vernon had left Harry alone while he waited and bade his time, for Vernon would not let what happened at the train station go. No, Vernon had to think of the perfect punishment, a punishment fitting enough for the vexation, the sheer gall of being threatened in public by a bunch of _freaks_.

Everyone had seen them. Had seen the queerly dressed freaks talking to his family. To him! A perfectly normal, respectable business man. Oh he wanted to make that boy pay for that disgrace; that smear on his reputation. He wanted to make sure that the punishment that he gave to the boy would fit perfectly with the severity of the crime. Maybe then the freaks would think twice about threatening him again. No one told Vernon what to do in his own house. No one.

 

It was the day before his sixteenth birthday and the sun was only just peaking over the horizon, a soft gold light that lit the sky with majestic purples and rosy pink hues. As the light gently poured warmth over the world and made its way over number four Private Drive, it woke only one from their slumber. The soft light of dawn chasing the last of the night's dream from his mind, and waking him from his healing sleep.

Harry Potter slowly opened his eyes, his mind already working to catalogue the injuries that had failed to heal the night before. Aunt Petunia had done her best to bandage him up, but she was no nurse. Thankfully however, he wouldn’t have to worry because his Aunt had gotten suspiciously good at cleaning wounds over the past year and anything she missed his magic could handle. 

It wasn’t too much of a shock to Harry to find out that Vernon had turned on his loving family when Harry was at school. He did after all have a horrible temper making sure that they would have received their fair share of bruises from a displeased Vernon. But while they were treated badly, it wasn’t as bad, as dehumanizing as Harry had been treated since left in their loving care.

 Despite Harry having returned ‘home’ Vernon didn’t stop what he had begun while he was away. The abuse heaped upon her by her husband made Aunt Petunia cautious, it honed her already sharp Slytherin skills. When she could she snuck him extra food, bandaged his cuts, and lowered his chore list. Knowing that if she were caught a back hand would be the least of her problems, she ran interference between Vernon and Harry as much as she dared to while still protecting Dudley. And when she couldn’t, she made damn sure he would survive.

Chores were easier to deal with as Dudley had taken to helping him out whenever his father wasn’t home. It seemed that both the Dementor attack and seeing his father hit his mother had done what others could not. It made him question his actions both past and present, it made him question everything that his father had taught him. All the things he has done because he saw his father do it to Harry and get away with it. He took stock of what his future would be if he kept on the path he was, and it was bleak. Who would want to hire a man that could not be trusted? That was unable to hold his temper, let alone accept responsibility for his own actions?

Who would have thought that what ultimately made Dudley Dursley into an upstanding citizen was in fact the sight of his father hitting his mother?

 

 The day had passed quickly in a flurry of chores and before he knew it the sun was about to set. Though his chores were strenuous and plenty, he was almost done. All that was left was to organize the tools in the shed. Surprisingly Vernon had left him relatively alone all day, and while Harry wouldn’t question his luck, he couldn’t help but think that something… life-changing was about to happen.

And of course he would be right, just not in the way he would’ve thought. Nor was it in a way that he would’ve wanted.

“BOY!”

Turning Harry saw his Uncle’s robust form making his way toward him. Huffing and puffing from the exertion, his chubby face was beaded in sweat, steadily changin in color from light pink to ruddy red. Harry sighed wiping the sweat from his brow he had been working on the lawn since dawn and had only just started to clean the tools so he could put them away.

“Yes Uncle Vernon?”

“Hurry up and put the blooming tools in the shed already! You’ve had all day to finish your chores boy, I will not allow any lolly-gagging around when there is work to be done!” Vernon’s face had been steadily deepening in color until it was now a nice purple color. Idly Harry wondered how long it would take before his uncle died from a burst blood vessel. Though he had survived this long, Harry sighed internally in dismay at the thought.

“Yes Uncle Vernon.” Vernon’s scowl became harsher, his lips now bright white from clenching them as he stared at his nephew. Losing his temper at the slow progress being made before him.

“Well what the bloody hell are you waiting for boy?! An invitation from the Queen? Get a move on it! I won’t ask you again!”

“Yes Uncle Vernon.” Harry picked up the rest of the tools, bringing them to the shed quickly before Vernon’s temper could override his desire to appear normal in public. It didn’t take too long, Harry was very economical in his movements. He had to be when he was expected to complete a certain amount of chores in the space of a day.

He was putting the last of the tools in its place when he heard movement behind him. Though when turning to see who it was, Harry was struck in the back of the head. Falling to the ground the last thing Harry saw before everything went black was his Uncle’s smiling face and cruel beady eyes.

 

When he came to, all he could see was green. Green, green, green, and oh look brown.

As his sense came back to him, Harry could now understand that he was the middle of a forest in the middle of the day. Though not completely unlike the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts in looks and feel, Harry had to admit he didn’t feel quite as in danger in this forest as he did in the Forbidden Forest. Though that might have something to do with the absence of outrageously large, sentient spiders’ hell bent on eating him.

Though Harry did wonder at how he had gotten here. The last thing he remembered he was back at Private Drive putting the tools back in the shed. No. Wait, he had heard a noise behind him... and as he turned around he was struck. Vernon.

Uncle Vernon had finally came through on his promise of getting rid of him. Though when he always said that Harry thought that that would mean that he would be killed or abandoned and left for dead. But he was still here, alive.

Wincing Harry tried to sit up, his muscles were screaming abuse at him every step of the way. Sharp pain stabbing at him all over, aching muscles refusing to cooperate. Oh god did everything hurt. What the hell did the fat tub of lard do to him? Run him over with a car? Let a few of Dobby's bludgers loose to 'protect' him?

Carefully as he could Harry took stock of all his injuries. He still had all his limbs, full motion available if he could stand the pain. Though he couldn’t be sure of hairline fractures, Harry was certain that nothing at least was broken. As carefully as he could, Harry prodded his ribs unable to hold back the wince that action caused. Bruising was prominent on most of his body but it seemed to be worse on his torso. Hopefully internal bleeding wouldn't be an issue.

Well walking may prove to be difficult, bordering on impossible. Harry thought grimly as he tried to get comfortable, sighing he leaned fully against the nearest tree. Thank god that the trees were not spread more widely apart. Maybe he could get a good distance between himself and his current location if he used the trees as a crutch.

However he was just so tired. He couldn’t help but be glad that not only had he let Hedwig out as soon as he got 'home' for the summer but that he had ordered that special trunk that could shrink into the size of a small charm. Gritting his teeth through the pain, Harry lifted his left arm. On a delicate silver chain lay several small charms, a broom, a trunk, a motorcycle.... Though he didn’t have the energy to make much use of it at the moment it would have sucked if he had left everything of importance to him back at the Dursley’s.

“Hoot, hoot.” Surprise crossed Harry’s face as he looked up. Hedwig. Loyal, beautiful Hedwig had found him already.

As if his notice was all that she was waiting for Hedwig took flight, gliding gracefully to where her human sat. With a few flaps of her wings she settled comfortably on her human’s legs. Her luminous gold eyes taking in everything; the way he held himself, the shortness of breath... The pig-human had hurt what was hers, this would not do. He couldn't be allowed to think it was okay to harm what was hers.

“Hey girl” Harry carefully petted his familiar gently, happy to see her so sound in health. “I am afraid that this time we really got ourselves into some trouble.”

 

It wasn't long however before he began to get tire, and even less before he was sound asleep tucked safely among the root of the tree. Hedwig looked once at her human, her hatchling, before she took flight once again. This time the pig-human would pay. No one would be allowed to hurt her human again if she had anything to do with it. Not that pig-human, nor even that color-blind goat and foul weaselly one at the castle

She would look after her human, at least until she could find a worthy protector for him.


	4. On Swift Wings

Chapter 3

On swift wings

 

Hedwig flew swiftly, her wings catching the wind and letting it carry her through the trees. Her golden eyes were wide and all seeing, her dedication to her mission made it so. Her human needed a protector, and a protector she will find. She wouldn’t let another harm what was hers to protect. Hedwig was intelligent and she was very skilled at her job, never before was she unable to locate the person her human sent her to and as such it will not be a problem for her to find a worthy protector.

 There.

Angling her body slightly to the left she dived through the tree tops and swerved around bothersome branches to get to her goal. A wolf not like the sick man-wolf; this one wasn’t tamed. His body untainted by the poison the sick man-wolf gave himself out of a misguided attempt to protect himself and those around him.

When she finally reached him the wolf-man was surrounded by others throwing colorful lights at him. They were not like him, they weren’t wolves as well as man. Hedwig thought them similar to the annoying orange howler monkey that always tries to squish her human when she sees him, or even the man with two faces that taught her human the winter before last.

The wolf-man defended himself well against so many opponents. Jumping and weaving his way around the colorful lights to getting close enough to rip the throat of his foe out with his claws. Blood was pooling on the ground, making the area slick with mud and giving the air a slight metallic scent. Silver hair tainted pink trailed behind the wolf like a flag as he danced between one opponent and the next, cries following wherever he went. Before long only two enemies were left. The one closest to her looked at the massacre around him before apparating away to safety, leaving his comrade to face the wolf-man alone.

Gracefully Hedwig landed on the nearest branch in front of the wolf-man as he took care of the last enemy. The wolf-man stood at roughly six-foot-three, his shoulders were broad enough that should she choose to Hedwig would easily be able to land comfortably on them. He was strong, strong enough to protect her human should he choose to.

 

Fenrir took in the snowy owl as he pulled his claws from his latest victim, the last of the squadron of aurors that thought that they would be able to bring in the infamous Fenrir Greyback with half their regular numbers. Throwing the cooling body away from him; he carefully stalked over towards the owl. Conscious of the fact that he knew of no one that would want to get into contact with him, nor of any with a snowy owl at their disposal.

“Now what do we have here?” Reaching a hand out to pet the snowy owls feathers, stopping as golden eyes narrowed in on the limb, still covered in the gore of his latest victims. Fenrir chuckled darkly. “What, don’t want your precious feathers dirtied?”

The owl clucked once in agreement before spreading her wings, launching herself in the air only to circle around to land on his shoulders. Once settled the owl started to groom him, picking at strands of his hair to rearrange them to her satisfaction, clucking over the mess.

“Your one brave bird, I’ll give you that.” Fenrir said amusement coloring his voice. Slowly to not startle the snowy owl, Fenrir brought his cleaner hand closer to the intelligent creature, gently running his fingers through her feathers. Giving one last hoot, the satisfied snowy owl launched into the air. Circling over him before landing on the branch of a nearby tree.

“Let me guess, you want me to follow you now?” A single hoot was his answer, bright golden eyes remained fixated on him, waiting for him to follow. Fenrir smirked, slowly making his way to the bird.

“Very well Lassie, lead the way.”

 

Time passed slowly as Hedwig led Fenrir to where her human slept. She set a steady pace, launching herself from her perch to settle on her next chosen branch whenever Fenrir was only a handful of trees away from her. They made good progress, reaching her human’s resting area before the sun could finish its daily descent.

Fenrir stopped just short of the small clearing her human rested in, taking in the sight of the young man the snowy owl led him to. He was small, he couldn’t be taller than five-foot-six at the most. He could possibly have a runner’s build, however it was hard to tell with how gaunt the young man was. His pale skin, high cheekbones, and pointed chin gave precedence to aristocratic roots, while his thread bare clothing and general appearance suggested poverty. An illegitimate child of a noble? 

He couldn’t be a muggle, muggles weren’t able to come this far into the forest. The protective magic of the forest wouldn’t allow it. Carefully Fenrir sniffed the air. He couldn’t be magical being, he didn’t give off the distinctive scent most beings gave off. That meant he was a wizard or at least his bloodline was predominately wizard. His scent was clean, like morning dew and freshly cut grass. It wasn’t covered by the tang of ozone, cologne, or potions used by most wizards to be presentable. 

Auburn highlights stood in stark contrast against black in the fading sunlight, his hair was all over the place as if he woke up and just didn’t bother to brush it. Walking closer to the sleeping youth Fenrir took in as much as he could. Narrow face, slim nose, full rosy lips, aristocratic feature; he looked tense even in sleep, as if waiting for an attack. His breathing was labored, as if he was only breathing with one lung.

“Your human?” Fenrir asked gruffly, coming to a stop in front of the youth. He was beautiful, even as broken as he obviously was. He was lucky that someone with less… scrupulous morals hadn’t found him already. Fenrir was a murder, a sadist, and most of all a hunter, but he never took someone to bed who didn’t want to be there. Kid’s lucky it was me the bird found and not some other wolf.

 “Suppose you want me to help him?” Fenrir turned back to the bird, mostly for a reason to take his eyes off of the enchanting sight before him. The snowy owl just hooted once in annoyance, as if he was supposed to already know what he was needed for. Fenrir snorted at the thought. Damn bird.

Before he could think it over further Fenrir gently gathered the young man in his arms. Sanding easily, the youth barely weighing anything at all. Shuffling the youth in his arms to a more comfortable position, he looked over at the smug looking bird. Jerking his head in towards the west, Fenrir started walking.

“Come on Lassie. We have quite a walk ahead of us.”


End file.
